by T. F. Jacobs
Aly nods in silence.
Not wanting her to rethink her answer, I turn and dart out of the door. Reluctantly, she follows. I don’t want to stick around to find out what the noise outside was. Dominique is dead, and for all I know the noise could be coming from her killer.
We run down the stairs outside the building, and then suddenly I hear footsteps.
I stop and turn. Aly hears them too.
I fumble for my keys, then inch toward the side of the building. If someone has a gun, there’s no way we make it to the car.
Then someone coughs.
I move my head around the side of the building and gaze out. The light from the inside window barely illuminates more than a few feet ahead.
There’s movement.
A shadowy figure strides toward me and I pull my head back.
“What is it?” Aly whispers.
“Someone’s coming.”
Her face registers the danger, and she sprints toward the other side of the building.
I run after her, staying as light on my feet as I can.
Surely whomever it is heard us pull up in my car.
We round the corner, then kneel down behind the wall.
And we wait.
For a long while, no one appears. I keep glancing over my shoulder to ensure no one is behind us.
And then the person appears. A hooded figure walks slowly toward the parking lot.
Aly’s breathing quickens. I’m sure mine does too. The figure doesn’t look back.
A moment later, the figure gets into the red pickup truck and drives off.
“Do you think that was her killer?” Aly whispers. We’re still crouched down. Neither of us ready to reveal ourselves.
“I don’t know.” There was something about the figure that struck me as strange. “They were moving very oddly. We better get out of here.”
She bows her head in agreement.
We get in my car and drive out of the cemetery, the engine kicking into fourth gear by the time I’m on the street.
Fifteen minutes later we still haven’t spoken. The full extent of what we just witnessed hasn’t fully registered. I know Aly’s mad that I made her leave without calling the police. But I’m not comfortable with getting them involved. Not yet. Too much explaining to do, most of which would incriminate us.
We arrive at a twelve-story doctor’s office built with blue-tinted glass. Unlike Hope Hospital this one isn’t busy—there are only a few dozen cars left in the parking lot.
We make our way up in the elevator, still in silence.
When we are on the tenth floor, we make a right down the black and white tiled floor toward office 1018 as instructed.
We pass the door to a pharmacy, but it’s already locked up with a sign hanging from it that says “Closed.”
We continue past it until we reach 1018.
I glance behind Aly to ensure we’re alone, then knock once.
The door swings open almost instantaneously, and a head pops out. It’s Alex.
He peeks out the door looking right then left.
“Come in,” he says hastily. His cheeks are bright red, his face tense.
We follow behind him, and he closes the door once we’re inside. His nose whistles from his heavy breathing.
We’re behind the counter of the pharmacy, surrounded by cabinetry consisting of hundreds of different bottles and bags.
“Follow me,” he says. He hurries to a door on the other side of the room, then holds it open for us.
Aly goes through first, and I follow.
I stop in my tracks when I notice a man already standing inside.
My eyes fix on him.
I soften when the recognition hits me. It’s Rob.
Thank God.
“What is going on?” I ask as Alex shuts the door.
We’re inside of a small office. A window reveals the dark night outside. There’s a desk and four chairs.
“Sit,” Alex says. He gestures toward the chairs on the other side of the desk.
Rob shakes our hands, then takes a seat. Aly and I follow.
“What the hell is going on? Have you guys heard from Brit?” I start.
We need to get some answers and quick.
“No. We were hoping you had,” Rob says.
Alex is nodding across from us. He’s sweating.
“No. Her phone is off. Something bad is happening—”
“Dominique is dead,” Aly interrupts.
Both Rob and Alex’s eyes go wide.
“Shit, no.” Rob appears flabbergasted.
“What happened?” Alex asks.
I respond. “Don’t know. We went looking for her at the cemetery, and there was blood everywhere. She was already dead.”
Alex is visibly nervous, rocking back and forth. His eyes look wet.
“But who would do that? Surely you don’t think it was Brit?” Rob asks.
“Who else could it be?” I demand. “The photos you guys gave me to blackmail my boss leaked. He shot himself after nearly shooting me. Then when I got home my flash drives were missing, and my house was bugged. Same with Aly’s. Brit has an obvious connection to all of it.”
Rob responds, “Shit. My flash drives are gone too. Same with you, right, Alex?”
We look across the desk to Alex, who is still rocking back and forth.
“Huh? Yeah. You know, I went to my car to look for them, but my door was wide open, and they were gone. I hid them inside my glove compartment, and whoever it was even left my emergency money inside, you know.”
Aly chimes in. “And Dominique is dead, and Brit is missing. We have nothing. It’s all gone. We need to go to the police.”
Everyone is quiet—nervous. We’re all thinking about it, but I don’t want to let it happen. I’m clinging to the hope we can get it all back. That we can still pull this off. But none of that will be possible if we go to the police. The police will question how we know each other, what my boss’s suicide has to do with it, how we knew Dominique, and why the flash drives are so important.
“Let’s just think about this for a second. Are we all on the same page that Brit has to be behind this?”
“Who else could it be?” Alex asks.
I look to Aly. I know what she told me was in confidence, but the situation has changed.
“Aly, what about Lincoln?”
Her eyes widen, giving me a telling look. It’s one that implies she doesn’t want me to go any further.
“You told him?” Rob asks.
“What does it matter if she told me? He went missing. Pretty important bit of information if you ask me. And now Brit is missing too, and Dominique is dead. Couldn’t whoever is responsible for him going missing also be responsible for all of this? Maybe they figured out who Lincoln was working with?”
Rob’s eyes are glued on Aly, but he’s thinking.
He waits, then opens his mouth to speak. “We haven’t a clue what happened to him though. So even if it was the same person, that doesn’t help us.”
“Aly told me Lincoln had a meeting with Joe Jones, Speaker of the House, before he went missing. I actually met him when I met with Connelly. He seemed like a nice guy, but looks can be deceiving. You don’t think he had anything to do with it?”
Rob twiddles his fingers, then says, “Highly unlikely. There’s a precedent between lobbyists and politicians that the lobbyists should be the ones to make sure that their deals stay quiet. It’s sort of an unspoken code. If politicians are going to do these deals, they need the lobbyists to do everything they can to keep them silenced. If Lincoln did go missing because of foul play, my money would be on that lobbyist firm he was working his way up. But that was a while ago. Why would the Speaker come after us now?”
I think back to the day I met with the Speaker at Connelly’s office. Could he really have done this?
“We need to go public,” Aly says. “It’s the only way we’re safe. Doesn’t matter whether it’s Brit, a lobbyist t
rying to keep us quiet, or a politician—they have a lot at stake. Obviously enough to kill for.”
We’re all silent. I consider it. She might be right, but all of the information we’ve collected is gone. We don’t have anything to go public with.
Wait.
“Do you guys have any of the files we’ve collected, or was everything on the drives?”
Rob looks to me. “That’s where I kept everything. It was too risky to keep that stuff on our computers or in our e-mails.”
“Me too. All I have is the story I told you about, you know, but that’s in my head,” Alex says.
Aly looks at me, realization in her eyes. “I have the laptop. The files from Connelly’s computer.”
She digs into her purse and pulls it out.
Alex stares before speaking. “What files?”
“Connelly has dirt on nearly every member of congress. I haven’t looked through all of them—Brit was taking the lead on that.”
Rob’s nodding. “She sent me that e-mail from Connelly to Congresswoman Thompson about her husband who was having an affair. She told me to publish it ASAP, but she didn’t give me any explanation. That article was gold. The Post is still begging for my source.”
“That’s the only file she gave you?”
“Yeah, that was it. She said it was important that it go out fast.”
“She did it because it helped me score a deal with Connelly. He actually thought I was the one who leaked it. He even threatened me. Told me to watch my back.”
Rob tilts his head. “Connelly came after me too. On the phone, at least. Threatened me and told me to take it down. But I get threats like that all the time, so I didn’t think much of it.”
“What about the rest of the files?” Alex asks. His face is even redder than before. Obviously the stress is taking a toll on him.
Aly opens her computer and turns it on.
“Let’s have a look,” she says.
While the computer boots up, I keep the conversation alive. “So no one else has anything that can help us with the case?”
“I have the e-mails from Dr. Constance telling me to double charge and to make mistakes on patient bills purposefully,” Aly offers.
“And I’ve got the story of Mark, my boyfriend. It’s on my computer, but I’ve never published it,” Rob adds.
“I have the videos on my phone. Of the congressmen and the senator.”
“What’s the video of the senator?” Alex asks.
The question leaves me with a pang of disgust. The reminder of Rachel or whatever the hell her name was. The senator’s hands on my chest.
“Brit really did keep everyone out of the loop, didn’t she? It’s Senator Ford. And it’s bad. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Aly watches me, curious. She fumbles with the keyboard, probably to put in her password.
“Wait. Brit told me to delete the video of Byers,” I say as the realization hits me.
I check my phone in hopes I still have it, but after scrolling through, I know it’s gone.
“Can you get the copies of those bills you put forward?” Rob asks.
I consider it. I know I have a copy of the bill I gave Ford about the tax credits in exchange for insurance. I think I might have one from Connelly about lowering healthcare premiums but increasing out of pocket costs. If I ask Rebecca, I may be able to get the one we gave Byers about the vaccine price-fixing.
“Maybe.”
“If you can get those copies, I think we will be able to link the senator and congressman. Those bills go public on government websites when they are put forward by the Senate or Congress,” Rob answers.
“Do you think this is enough to make waves? Senator Ford’s story will be much more impactful if he actually makes it into the White House. And that could be a while if it happens at all.”
“We don’t have that kind of time. Dominique is dead today,” Aly rebuts.
Rob ponders it as Alex continues to rock back and forth. “I don’t know. Let’s see what’s on these files first.”
Aly pulls them up and clicks into one.
“Wait,” I say. “I might have something else. My new boss at American True Care essentially confirmed that we are already working with the White House. She didn’t say who specifically, but she implied that my predecessor, some guy named Kevin, was in with them. She also implied that Kevin had been fired on bad terms. If we can find Kevin, he might be able to help us with what we really need: a link between Big Healthcare and the White House at the highest levels.”
All three sets of eyes are glued to me.
“That sounds risky. Do you have any leads on finding him?” Rob asks.
I think about it. “Senator Ford was surprised Kevin was gone, so that means they didn’t stay in touch. Byers couldn’t even remember his name. I might be able to ask Rebecca, but I’m on thin ice with her. And Connelly is pretty tight lipped, but maybe we can coerce him into it.”
“Yeah. So what’s in the folders?” Alex’s voice is loud. Quite an abrupt change of subject. I look across at him and notice how much he’s sweating. Obviously he’s not the best guy for covert operations.
Aly’s face is inches from her laptop. She’s reading over something, and it has her completely enthralled.
“Listen to this,” she announces. “‘Republican Congressman Roberto Reyes and his wife, Tina, have had two abortions in the past five years. Both were performed by Planned Parenthood. Both were done off-the-record in exchange for congressional votes for additional funding. Dr. Alan Hwang confirmed the abortions on-the-record after several other patrons came forward, claiming they saw both the congressman and his wife at a Planned Parenthood in Denver. The case was dropped after settling outside of court.’”
Wow.
“Oh, that’s rich. That would make headlines,” Rob says. He’s got a glint in his eyes.
“Do you two think you can scan through these files for more possible information that we can use?” I ask, looking at Aly and Rob. “Alex and I can head to my office and get the copies of the bill. I’ll also try to get in touch with Rebecca to see if I can get any more information on this Kevin guy. Then we can all meet back tonight?”
Rob nods, and then Aly shrugs. “I’m coming off a twenty-four-hour shift, but with a little coffee I’ll be okay for a bit.”
“Okay,” Alex says. Again he’s too loud. He’s fidgeting with his hands under the desk, nerves fully caught up to him.
“Good. Let’s exchange numbers this time,” I say.
I pull out my phone then look at Rob.
“Alex already has my number. Just get it from him,” he says.
I nod, but then pause.
Wait, how can that be?
I look back at Alex, who’s still sweating and fidgeting.
“Alex, how’d you get our phone numbers? I thought Brit was the only one who had them.”
Aly and Rob look up from the computer screen, also curious.
Alex is breathing so loudly, it sounds like he’s going to pass out. He looks from me to Rob, clearly contemplating something.
His silence has me tensing my muscles.
Alex jumps up from his desk, kicking his chair into the wall. In one motion his arm comes forward then slams something into Rob’s neck.
Before I even realize what’s happening, Rob slumps back then crashes to the floor. A needle falls from Alex’s hand.
Aly screams. “What the hell?”
We both leap from our seats and stare down at Rob, who is unconscious on the floor.
My eyes drift up to Alex. He’s crying and clutching at something in his right hand.
I look closer and see a metallic glint. It’s another needle.
“Alex, what’s going on?”
“They made me do it,” he cries. “They will kill me if I don’t do this. Please, just sit back. I promise it won’t be painful. They’re already on their way up.”
“Who? Alex, what are you talking about?”
Aly stands behind me as Alex steps around the desk.
“I’m sorry!” he shouts through heavy panting breaths. “There’s no other way, you know.”
“Hold on a second. We’re on the same side. Who are you talking about?”
He can’t control his sobs. He’s a wreck. He inches toward me.
“I don’t know! They’re listening to us now.”
My eyes scan the room, looking for some sort of listening device. I can’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not here.
I need to talk him down. Put that psychology class I took in college into practice. When someone is in hysterics like this, you need to appeal to their higher being. Their morals. You have to show them the way out of their problem.
“Alex, please. Think about this, there’s got to be a way out. We can still do this. How many people are there?”
“No!” he screams. “We can’t. There’s too many. Six at least. Please, I have to inject you. It’s the only way.”
Aly clutches tightly to my back.
Who the hell is coming? Are they the same people who killed Dominique?
I take a step back as Alex inches closer.
I try to reason with him as his hand shakes wildly. “Alex, please.”
But it’s too late.
He lunges at me with the needle, and in the same instant I raise my foot and kick hard, making direct contact with his knee.
He tumbles back and hits the wall. The needle goes flying and clatters against the floor.
With no time to wait, I leap forward, grabbing Aly’s arm as I do. Alex is keeled over on the floor in front of the door, but I grab for the handle then launch it open.
I run through, jumping over Alex’s body.
Aly jumps too, but something catches her, stopping her from exiting the door.
I turn around to see Alex’s hand on her leg. His other hand grabs for the syringe on the ground, then springs it toward her.
“Alex, no!” I shout.
But it’s too late.
Aly’s foot kicks into his face hard, and the syringe smacks into the wall.
He missed, but she didn’t.
Alex lets out a gut-wrenching yelp. He probably has a broken nose.
Without waiting another second, Aly jumps forward and runs out the door.